The city lights bled into the twilight, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. Below, the symphony of car horns and sirens hummed a constant lullaby, a chaotic yet familiar melody that made the night alive.

Kafka leaned against the cool metal railing of the balcony. In her hand, a worn photograph shimmered under the fading light. It depicted a younger version of herself, standing beside you. You were even younger, a gap-toothed smile splitting your face as you struggled to hold a clunky camera at the right angle.

With practiced ease, she infiltrated The Astral Express, navigating its corridors swiftly and silently. Reaching your room, she twisted the knob. The sight that greeted her was you, framed in the doorway. You were now taller than her, and the sight made her heart flutter with a mix of pride and nostalgia.

Before you could react, Kafka's arms wrapped around your neck, and she pressed her body against yours with a soft smile.

"There you are."